


In The Shadows

by princesskay



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Dark, Depression, Episode Related, Episode: s05e01 Night, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: Voyager is lost in The Void, but Kathryn is lost in a darkness all her own





	1. Kathryn

**Author's Note:**

> A "Night" fix-it in two parts. First person POV. Chapter one Kathryn. Chapter two Chakotay.

I am alone with my thoughts. And the darkness. The darkness is always there, just outside the window. The gaping, swallowing void mocks me from every viewport, all my failures wrapped up in nothingness. 

I am alone in the water, my body rigid and poisoned with dread against the rock of the tiny waves. I’m not in the bath to get clean; the sonic shower would work just fine for that. I’m here because I need to feel weightless, to heave the boulder of guilt off my shoulders for even just a moment. I’m here because I can’t sit in the silence of my quarters without relief for one more second. 

I am alone, my fingers drifting between my thighs. Searching through the water for my clitoris, searching for pleasure. Searching for relief, anything to take my mind off the upheaval and chaos of my thoughts. 

I am alone, and horny. Funny how your body can betray you with these intrusive, base desires when your mind is on the other side of the galaxy. Funny how when you hate yourself, the only thing you want is to remember how it feels to love yourself. For someone to love you. Anyone. 

But this isn’t love, it’s just hormones. And right now, it’s all I’m thinking about. 

Ironic. I’ve been searching for weeks for a distraction, but I hadn’t expected to come in the form of an orgasm. If I can ever get there. 

I’ve been alone in the bath for an hour. The water was scalding hot when I climbed in, but it’s cooled to a reasonable temperature, still just warm enough to keep my mind from turning from pleasure to the cold. I keep my eyes closed to my surroundings, focusing instead on the rhythm of my fingers between my legs. The water sloshes quietly as I reposition and tremble, straining toward the single beam of light in my darkened state of mind. 

God, it’s so close. I can feel the tight pang of anticipation between my hips, the heat drifting from me and into the water. I can feel the pulse of pleasure just below my fingertips, my swollen clit aching for that perfect moment of stimulation to send me spilling over the edge. 

Just when I think I almost have it, the pleasure flits away with a single stray thought. 

The inky darkness. 

The crew. 

My duties. 

The world outside this moment. My guilt. My failings. 

Each hitting me like a fist to the gut. 

I have to take a breath and reassert my mind to this trivial pursuit. It’s one of the few things I have left to myself, and it may be silly, but I’m not giving it up to my depressed thoughts and self-hatred. 

I am alone, or so I thought. 

Creeping toward pleasure, I suddenly feel the burn and itch of eyes on the back of my head. At first, it’s only a niggling, and I dismiss it. Then, as my skin begins to blaze with the intensity of the gaze, I sit upright in the tub. 

Pivoting, I see him lingering in the shadows. 

“What are you doing?” I gasp, my voice thin and shaking.

He turns away abruptly, his shoulders facing me wide and stiff. 

“I just came in to check on you. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“How long have you been standing there?” 

“Not long.” 

I gaze at his turned back, trying to muster some sense of anger at the impropriety of the situation. I could cite rules and regulations, but this isn’t a matter of rank. 

At this stage, I’m just woman lying naked in a bathtub with her hand between her legs. 

And he’s just a man trying to keep this ship together. 

He’s called on me nearly every day since this isolation began, staying sometimes for a minute, sometimes for an hour. Rotating between tactics to break through my walls. Maybe he’s finally found one. 

“Chakotay …”I whisper. 

He hesitantly turns his head to look over his shoulder at me. I can see the glint of his eyes in the dark, barely distinguishable from the shadows. He’s magnetism and weight, just like the darkness, but it’s a shadow I would welcome across my pale skin. 

I bring my hand out of the water, spilling tiny droplets over the edge as I reach for him. 

“Come.”

A frown tightens his brow at my beckon. 

“Captain, I-”

“Come here.” 

He hesitates a moment longer before turning fully to face the tub. He shuffles across the room, his head down, eyes trained on the floor. When he reaches the edge of the tub, his eyes shift between the water’s surface and my face. My form is barely visible beneath the water, but my breasts manage to break the surface. The water rolls over my hard, pink nipples, playing a game of hide and seek with his tentative gaze. 

“Captain-” His voice is a low, strangled sound. 

“No.” I murmur, “Not captain. Say my name.”

His lips purse, nostrils flaring. His eyes slide shut for a moment as he grips at his control. 

“Kathryn …”

“Kneel down.” I say, my voice stout with sudden boldness. 

My mind is scattered and frantic, hardly following a straight line. I’m set on this thought of pleasure, though I know I’m hurtling headlong into a fatal mistake. 

This darkness and this solitude has severed me from command. The world he’s been living in, the one on the bridge, is so far away from me it’s almost negligible. 

I think now that I’ve always wanted him like this. How utterly ridiculous I haven’t asked him to touch me before. How strange I’d put other things before this anticipation and light-headed arousal that I’m experiencing now. 

Slowly, he kneels down beside the tub. 

He avoids my gaze with a bent head. His fingers are white-knuckled around the ceramic edge of the bath. 

I take his right wrist, and pry his fingers away from the rim. Plunging it below the water, I guide his hand down against my inner thigh. 

A gasp rolls from his lips. His arm fights my pull for half a second before his fingers settle loose and hesitant against my skin. 

“Look at me.” I whisper. 

He lifts his chin, slowly pries his eyes open. They’re obsidian in the darkness, bright, glinting points of need that sear into my body like a branding iron. 

“I’ve been here for an hour now.” I say, my voice low and choked, “Touching myself …”

Rosy color rushes up his neck and cheeks, and he breaks the gaze in shock. His eyelashes bat, and his throat bobs in a thick swallow. 

“I haven’t come.” I whisper, a groan creeping into my tone, “I can’t make myself …”

“Kathryn-”

“I need you to do it.”

His hand retreats from my thigh, and he begins to rise from the floor. I grab onto his wrist, sloshing water over the edge of the tub in my urgency. 

“No, don’t go.”

“I have to.” He says, his expression pained, “I can’t do this, Kathryn. I’m sorry-”

I pull hard on his arm, forcing him back to his knees. He leans against the edge of the tub with a grunt. 

“Touch me, Chakotay.” I pant, dragging his hand between my thighs, “That’s an order.”

His hand bumps between my legs as I force his wrist down farther into the water. The first contact is accidental and brusque, but my body clenches and hums in response. 

“Please,” I whisper, casting him a plaintive gaze, “I’m so close, I just need you to …”

His wrist relaxes in my hands. I see the defiance in his eyes crumbling, the truth peeking out from behind his objections. He’s dying inside to let go of command and respect. Dying to touch me, to fuck me. 

“Let go of my arm.” He says. 

I open my mouth to protest, but his sharp glance cuts me off, as does his next command. 

“Open your legs.”

Heart pounding, I relinquish my grip on his arm. The water ripples quietly below the sound of our heavy, exhilarated breaths as I spread my legs wide against the sides of the tub. 

His hand slides through the water to find me wet and trembling. His fingers graze my labia, tracing over the edges and leaving me dizzy and panting with crushing arousal. Slowly, he reaches past the tender folds to where I’m clenched and gushing, and my clitoris is puffy and sensitive with friction and need. He touches me there gently, and it’s as if a bolt of electricity goes through me. I jolt against the tub, splashing water and piercing the silence with a strained cry. 

He crouches just behind my shoulder, and clasps my cheek in his other hand, pulling my face toward his neck. I breathe in the scent of his skin as he touches me, his fingers deft and delicate against my throbbing clitoris. 

I writhe and arch against the smooth ceramic of the tub, moaning out my need into his skin.

“Please …” I whimper, tossing my head against his shoulder, “Oh God, I need more.” 

He presses closer, his arm stretching through the water to bring his fingers harder against me. His ministrations are quick and precise, exacting just the right pressure, leveling me with pleasure.

I’m heaving and gasping in the tepid water when my sore, aching body finally releases to his touch and fills me with pulsating bliss. Water sloshes and spills as I writhe against the swirl of his fingers. Spasms clench and ripple through me, each one coming harder and brighter and hotter until I’m breathless, half-sobbing in a relief. 

I clutch at his arm, desperate to keep him with me before the pleasure has even faded or melted into my bones. 

He releases a low sigh against my hair, leaving a kiss against my crown like an afterthought - a stab at romance when this moment is anything but romantic. 

His hand retreats from between my legs, but I claw at his forearm. 

“Don’t run away.” I whisper, holding his hand prisoner against my breast. 

“I’ve already stayed too long.”

“Then you’ve already crossed the line, and there’s no retrieving it.” 

“What will you do if I stay?”

I gaze straight ahead, considering that question myself. I hadn’t thought much farther than my own orgasm. 

I can hear the regret in his tone, but also the note of desire. He’s torn between the two, and how could I blame him? I couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to thrust this upon him. 

What does he think of me right now, really? 

I’ve all but abandoned him to run this ship without me. I’ve locked myself in this room for days to mourn my own selfish choices. I’ve left him with the responsibility of the entire crew. And now, I ask one more impossible thing. 

“I want to get out of this tub and fuck you.” I say, my voice raw and undisguised by any pretense that had come before.

There’s a beat of silence before he extricates his hand from my grasp. 

I let go this time, knowing I can’t force him another step beyond this point. I can’t make him give more than he already has. 

He rises from the floor, and stands behind me for a long moment. I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, the indecision, the longing, the resolve. 

Finally, I hear the rhythm of his footfalls departing. The cold breath of loneliness washes in to surround me in his absence, an old enemy returning to my doorstep. 

I don’t cry. My heart has edges of steel to deflect this kind of pain. It’s grown thorns from the scars, and armor from the wounds. 

I am not devastated by his choice to leave. It was the right choice, that I’m aware of. 

I am alone. Alone until he calls again tomorrow. 


	2. Chakotay

 

Into the darkness I dare go, braving the harsh landscape of her repose and fighting the cold tide rippling from within. There’s a shudder in my hands that I do not recognize, the steady pluck of fear in my chest and belly. I do not know what lies ahead, only the rocky waves that roll out behind us. 

Everything has come unspooled - my control, my eloquence, my patience. I’m bursting at the seams, though for what outcome I cannot pin down. Do I want more? Or would an explanation suffice?

Somehow, I know the explanation is already woven in our skin and minds, the natural explosion at the end of a long, strung-out thread of dynamite. 

The canned lights above the sofa compete against the shadows clinging to her bare shoulders. She’s curled there by the window, dressed in a lavender nightgown that barely clings by narrow straps to her shoulders. The fine, silken fabric spills over her pulled up knees, hiding the pale skin from my sight. I can still recall the tops of her knees breaking the surface of the water as she spread her thighs open to my hand, how they bent and pushed against the ceramic of the tub in heaving need. 

The memories make my gut twist, the commander in me cringing back under the force of undiluted desire. If my rank and duty could speak, they’d have a lot to say about self-control. But I’ve suffered enough in silence since last night that words could hardly add to my guilt. 

“Commander.” She murmurs, her voice reaching across the room to stroke my fledgling erection. 

I clasp my hands behind my back, stalwart - perhaps ridiculously so - in my belief that I can control myself this time. 

“Captain.” 

Her legs uncurl from beneath the gown, her toes breaking from the edge of the hem to meet the ground. It’s only the searing touch of her gaze that pulls my eyes from her feet. 

“Report?” 

The question clings onto command structure, as if the line is still there clearly in front of us instead of obliterated and fading into the distance. 

“All systems are functioning at peak efficiency.” 

I’ve said the words a hundred times, but this time, they sound different. They sound like a lie. 

She knows it before I can say anything further.  _ Voyager  _ is intact, but her command team is another story. 

All the things we thought we were are in shattered pieces behind us - behind that night. The truth we’ve tried to hide stands bare as her freckled shoulders do now. 

She rises from the sofa. Her hands hang at her sides, defeat in the limp posture of her fingers. 

“Nothing new to report?” 

I shake my head. I hear the breath rattle through my lungs as I take a meager gulp of air. She approaches me slowly, looking as if she’s gliding with the gown concealing her feet and swirling about her ankles. 

“Then you have no reason to stay.” 

I watch her with narrowed eyes. She’s testing me. Her chin is lifted, her throat pale and vulnerable. Asking me to wrap my fingers around the alabaster skin and squeeze. 

If I could summon my anger I would. Instead the only heat I feel is the gathering lurch of dizzying arousal. 

“I’ll stay.” I say, the words wobbling from my lips. 

She stops just in front of me, her gaze searching my face with scathing intensity. She had looked so fragile in the water, her skin pale and delicate like paper, desperation seething from every pore. But tonight, she’s wearing the strength I recognize - the power to grind me into fine dust in the palm of her hand. 

“You didn’t want to stay last night.” 

The words are whispered but cutting. A condemnation. I abandoned her to this darkness. 

My mouth twitches around unspoken words, searching for just the right order of syllables that might persuade her to trust me. 

She closes the space between us with a few measured steps, bringing us close enough for her chest to brush mine. The satin fabric of the gown strains across her breasts with a long, wavering inhale. Her shoulders stiffen and gather their strength, and her hands curl into white-knuckled fists at her sides. 

“Did you?” She presses, her voice low and throaty in a way that has never ceased to arouse me. 

I feel the heat consume my face, ashamed by her extraneous question while the truth is staring us both in the eyes. 

“I did, but-”

As soon as I find my voice, she interrupts with a hand at my chin. Her thumb drags across my lips, stemming the argument. 

She moves closer, until I feel the cradle of her hips close on my crotch. My cock pulses below layers of fabric and jumps against the magnetic call of her body. The pang ripples through me, unleashing a whimper against the back of my throat. I clench my jaw to trap the sound, and avert my gaze from hers. 

I should turn and leave. I should walk away. I should take on this responsibility just like every other one I’ve picked up on the bridge in her absence. 

I should, but I can’t. 

Her fingers slide through the fine hairs at my nape, up over my scalp, and drag me down. I offer the weakest protest before our mouths collide. I clutch at her hips, pulling her hard against me as the taste of her mouth spills like honey across my senses. In an instant, duty and respect are lost under the suffocating cloud of need. My body is clay in her hands, molded to her desires. 

The stroke of her tongue eases, just long enough for me to breathe in a shuddering gulp of air. She strokes my cheek, loving and desperate. 

“Touch me.” She pleads, her voice taking me captive. “We can have each other, even if it’s just for tonight. Please, Chakotay, I need this.” 

I press my face into her throat, breathing deep the faint scents of lavender and jasmine, reveling in the silken warmth of her skin. My hands curl around her hips, dragging the material of the gown taut across her backside. She strains against me, branding every twitch and pulse of her body into my pounding chest. 

My head spins in dull, languid circles. My mind sifts through the memories of the previous night, focusing on the tiny details. The water glistening on her pristine skin, droplets trickling down her throat and between her breasts, her nipples hard and pink and shining. The exquisite softness of the skin between her thighs, and the heat gushing from her. The ache and tremble of her body as my touch unraveled her. The mewled whimpers of need stroking down my ears and into my groin.

I need it again. I’m fully convinced I’ll suffocate without it. Like I’ve been slowly losing oxygen since I left her room the night before. 

Lifting my head from her throat, I meet her stormy eyes. She challenges me with a lifted chin. Daring me to defy my own needs. Daring me to defy my own captain. 

I take her by the nape with one hand, the strap of the gown with the other. The fabric surrenders under the force of my fist, stitching wailing and shredding in the silence of the room. A small gasp jumps from her lips as her breast spills free of the gown, and my hand rises to claim the supple flesh. 

Her nipple turns hard against my thumb as I pull her against me. Her mouth opens to mine, a groaning sigh winding against my tongue as I kiss her with feverish desperation. I feel for the stays of the gown, locate the zipper between her shoulderblades. With a single tug the garment comes free,  silk spilling like water from her hips. She’s naked beneath, not a single stitch left standing between her trembling sex and my hand. 

I sever the kiss. She’s bracing her hands against my chest, her eyes closed in anticipation, her mouth plump and pink from the bracing kiss. I let my gaze wander down her body, and feel my cock grow thicker as I pause below her hips. 

Her eyes flutter open as the waiting stretches on. 

“Come with me.” I whisper, nodding toward the bed. 

Her tongue darts across her lips, wetting the drying skin of open-mouthed need. 

I stride toward her bed made up with impeccable white sheets. She’s slept here alone for many years now, and I can imagine her lying under the covers and touching herself as she had in the bath. She won’t remember that aching loneliness after tonight. 

I pull her around in front of me, and release her down against the inviting sheets. She sinks into the fluffy comforter, and throws her legs open. Her eyes meet mine, beckoning come hither. Teeth toy at her lower lip, playfully coy despite the darkness hedging around this encounter. 

Kneeling between her legs, I take one creamy thigh and press her open wider. Her legs stretch to accommodate, a groan straining at her throat as her glistening pussy becomes vulnerable to me. Even in the shadows I can make out the swollen folds, her clitoris peeking out tender and pink at the crest. 

Her hands shift restlessly at her hips and the sheets, automatically wanting to touch herself after so long alone. 

“Put your hands above your head.” I say. 

She hesitates, but obeys. 

“Lock your fingers.”

Again, without protest, she follows my command. 

“I don’t want you to even think about touching yourself tonight.” I say, my voice husky with need. “I’ll be the one to make you come.” 

Rosy red blossoms across her cheeks and throat, and her eyes widen. Her lips fall open, but no rebuttal follows. 

Sliding my hand down her inner thigh, I pause for a tantalizing moment before dragging my thumb along her gushing slit. Her labia fall slickly open to the nudging, leaving her engorged clitoris bare and throbbing. 

“Ah-” The choked sound leaps from her throat, and her spine snaps taut. Her eyes pin to the ceiling, wide and racing in anticipation. 

Bending closer, I take her by the hip to keep her still. Methodically, I swirl the pad of my thumb against her opening, inciting a fresh drizzle of arousal. Hot, slick juices cover my thumb in seconds as her body quivers open to my caress. 

She twists under the pressure of my hand on her hip, but I strengthen my grip. She’s pinned, helpless. Her knuckles bleach as she locks her fingers tighter, fighting the urge to grab and touch. 

Slowly, I allow my thumb to circle up against her clitoris, smearing the excess wetness over the tender bud of flesh. 

“Oh, God!” Her shrill voice breaks the silence. 

Her face twists in pleasure, hips bucking against my hand as I touch her persistently. Her legs begin to collapse, and I wedge myself between them to keep her open and vulnerable. Her knees tremble and squeeze around me as I flick my thumb across her clitoris in a quick, teasing strokes. 

She arches, chest heaving with exhilarated breaths, belly quivering with arousal. Her arms fall from above her head, but her hands stay locked, presenting a supplicant posture, a plea for mercy. 

I take my hand away, and she whimpers at the loss of sensation. 

Pressing her legs open, I ease down to my stomach against the mattress. Her eyes open wide, and her head pops up from the pillow to watch my mouth descend on her. 

“Chakotay-” 

It almost sounds like a reprimand, but my lips are already on her. Too late to be stopped. 

I take her wholly in my mouth, suckling down on the arousal glazed folds and making my way up to her clitoris. She tastes heady and sweet, her juices working across my tongue and down my throat before another gush comes. I can feel her throbbing from the inside out as I take her clitoris between my lips. 

“Oh!” She cries, her body arching from the bed. 

Her hands unlace to seize my hair, dragging my face hard against her pussy. I let her clutch onto the meager sense of control, but I’m precise in the stroke of my tongue. I lick slow and steady against her swollen clit, building the arousal and need until she’s stiff and shaking against me. 

When she finally comes, I feel the ripple start just below my mouth and spread through her belly and into her limbs, into her thighs around my head and her fingers in my hair. The anticipation snaps, and she bucks against me, pleasure shooting spasms through every inch of her body. Her hips roll and jerk against my mouth, spilling sweet arousal onto my tongue, filling my nostrils with the musky scent. 

She strains and twists for what seems like an eternity before her body goes limp against the sheets. She’s shaking, breathing in raspy gasps. I lick the last of her sweet come from her tender folds, feel her twitch and gasp in aching response.

I drop a kiss against her inner thigh, and push myself upright. 

She avoids my gaze, her cheeks flushed and glowing with pleasure. 

“Kathryn,” I murmur. 

Her eyes creep up to meet mine. 

I crawl over her, and brace my hands beside her head. My cock rests hard and thick against the front of my pants, obscene when paired with my intact uniform. 

Bending my head down, I nuzzle kisses against her cheek and ear. 

“I want to be inside you.” I whisper, my voice choked and gravely around the words. 

Her breath catches. She reaches for my trousers, confirming her own desire. 

I press my eyes closed as her fingers work the trousers open, and free my cock from clinging fabric of my boxers. I lean back to discard my jacket, and she tugs the pants down while I pull my shirt off over my head. I kick the pants off my ankles, eager to feel her skin against mine. 

Her hand strokes against my cock, easing the desperate pace of my movements. 

I drag my fingers taut around her hair, and bite back a whimper as her fingers drag down the length of my cock. The flesh screams with need, the ache building inside me reaching a throbbing pinnacle. It pierces me through the middle, twisting desire so deep it hurts. 

“Oh, Kathryn,” Her name rushes past my lips, mangled with longing. 

Her hand tightens around me, stroking from tip to root, stretching already straining skin. Foreskin stretches back from the glans, leaving me swollen, pink, dripping. The arousal gathers at the tip, shaken loose by the stroke of her hand. The droplet falls to her belly, and slowly dribbles down her side. 

She pauses at the base, and my cock bucks freely in the languid embrace. 

Every throb twists my belly, pushing a groan up my throat. Pleasure tingles and hums at my nerve-endings, threatening a swift and abrupt end. 

She lets go, leaving my skin aching and burning in her absence. 

I push forward, desperate to feel my cock sliding through her juices and into the warm, velvet clutch of her pussy. She stops me with both hands on my hips. 

“Fuck …” The frustrated groan punches past my gritted teeth. 

She hums a response. I know she’s teasing me just like I teased her. Stretching this night out as far as our physical limits go. 

Her palms slide around my hips and over my ass, dragging me down against her. My cock rubs against her belly, smearing fresh drops of arousal into the quivering plane. Her mouth brands against my neck, leaving kisses and whispered promises on my skin. 

I delve my arms under her shoulders, and drag her taut against me. I grind against her, my cock riding hard against her slick folds and her tender clitoris, but never entering her. Her arousal smears along the shaft, teasing me with slight idea of what her pussy must feel like. 

I groan, pausing from my desperate rutting. Her hands pet my back and shoulders, soothing in a way. I arch my hips, nudging the tip of my cock against her opening. 

She gives a low, vibrating hum of appreciation at the slightest penetration. Rolling her hips into the pressure, she takes my aching cock into the slick embrace of her body. I ease in, biting back a series of whimpers as by body clamps at the sensation, pleasure lurching against the lapsing restraints of my self-control. Heat spirals through my belly and chest, dropping low and hard between my legs. I’m entirely submerged inside her, this critical part of my being taking center stage, eradicating all else. If I close my eyes, it’s all I can feel - the slick heat, the velvet suction of her tender flesh, every flicker and pulse her body is pressing into my aching cock. 

“Kathryn …” 

I hear my own voice as if outside my body, but her response winds into my soul. I feel the tremble of her body as if it’s my own, hear her moan echo inside my head. Our bodies fuse and melt, a tribal dance in this confined space of unreality. We’re tiny beings, on this tiny ship in the middle of the an endless universe - and for a moment, I can’t recall all the things that were standing in our way before. Whatever they were, they don’t matter anymore. 

All that matters is the the hypnotic rhythm of our hips meeting, our pulses aligning, the fire in her eyes, the blissful moan on her lips, the flash of brilliant light and pleasure when our motions finally take me apart. 

I fall against her, a heap of limp muscle and flesh. 

Our bodies stay connected as passionate heat cools and drizzles. Her fingers are loose against my nape, where beads of sweat begin to dry. There’s a shudder in her chest as she starts to breathe again, starts to awaken and realize. 

Our actions solidify, like concrete drying in the sunlight. We’ve left impressions everywhere, impressions that will remain fused into the surface of our relationship forever from this point on. A glance back, and I see the point where I fell apart, where I forgot that I was her first officer instead of her lover. It’s a long way for regret to span when so much pleasure happened in such precious little seconds. 

I start to move. I’ll be the one to leave. This is her domain, and she holds the right to push me away. 

But her arms lock around my neck, blocking off my escape route. 

“Don’t.” She whispers, her voice smokey and scratchy. 

I swallow thickly, my better judgment screaming in the back of my mind. This command doesn’t issue from a captain’s mouth. We careened past those barriers too hard for us to revert back so quickly. I don’t have to obey. 

“Don’t run away again.” She presses, her arms fierce around my neck, “Don’t leave me here alone.” 

I bury my face in her neck. My heart twists painfully at the note of desperation in her voice. I’ve never seen her be desperate. Never seen the cracks behind the armor. Maybe I just didn’t want to. 

“This darkness is eating me alive.” She continues, emotions tearing into her voice, “I don’t know if I can stand one more night alone, Chakotay. I don’t know if I can go on, if I can-”

“Kathryn.” I interrupt before I can fully consider my next words. 

Lifting my head, I look her hard in the eyes. They’re misty and gray, the sharp cobalt faded by pain and sadness. 

“I’m only human.” She whispers, her mouth trembling, “And I’m sorry I did this to you the way that I did, but I need … I need to remember I’m human.” 

I clasp her cheek, feeling the softness and heat of her skin. 

“You are.” I say, gently, “But you can’t give up now. Not now that we’ve come this far.” 

“I’m not giving up. I’m giving  _ in.  _ Realizing that I can’t do this by myself …” 

I search her face, see the flicker of life behind her eyes. I know this isn’t just about sex - and that’s all I wanted to know. 

“Okay.” 

Her lashes flutter as I bend to press a row of kisses across her mouth and cheek, nuzzling my way down against her earlobe. 

“O-okay?” She whispers, hesitantly. 

“Okay.” I echo, then more firmly, “I’ll stay.” 

She let’s out a rushed, fragile breath, a low, choked sob on it’s heels. Her arms wrap tighter around my neck, holding me as if I’m the only lifeline in a vast, deep ocean. 

We lie still, holding each other, breathing the weight from our chests, purging the sadness, the loneliness. I close my eyes, inhale the sweet scent of her skin. She’s soft and strangely familiar against me, as if our souls already knew we belonged here before this night began. At last, I feel day breaking across my shoulders; the darkness remains outside the window, but the shadows flee before our embrace. 

 

~the end~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)
> 
> You can also find me on [Tumblr!](http://relentless-fire.tumblr.com//)!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)
> 
> You can also find me on [Tumblr!](http://clairehales.tumblr.com//)!


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